It hurt him more than Meg ever knew, to watch her suffering and
ever-growing anxiety. She made no complaint and very seldom alluded to
her lover's silence or to his absence. When she spoke of him, it was
generally to recall some happy incident which had happened in their
secluded life, little things culled from the store-closet of her
precious memories.

It was to the stars and to the wide heavens that her heart relieved
itself. They heard the full story of her trust and loyalty and the
confessions of her jealous woman's heart; they bore her cry to the
understanding ear.

It was impossible for Margaret to believe any wrong of her lover. If
she had short waves of doubt and agonizing moments of uncertainty and
indecision, they were always dispelled by the sudden inflow of
beautiful thoughts, which came like divine visions to her, as direct
assurances of Mike's loyalty and steadfastness.

It was Freddy who caused her the cruellest suffering. It was so
dreadful to think that he, of all people, doubted, distrusted Mike! If
she had not cared for him so greatly it would not have mattered, but
apart from Michael he was the being she loved and respected most on
earth. His eyes haunted her; the doubt in them never left her mind; it
argued against her finer judgment. That her dear chum should be
working against her higher voice, her super-self, troubled her. It
seemed to set up a barrier between them, which was the cruellest part
of the whole affair. If he would only let her alone, she would go to
some cooler spot and there wait and wait until Michael came to her, for
she knew that he would come back to her, bringing her the same
beautiful love as he had carried away. She knew perfectly well that in
spite of her foolish fits of depression and distrust, he was wholly and
absolutely hers while he was alive on this earth.

Freddy bore the expression of one who was waiting to deliver judgment.
Meg could see his annoyance kindling day by day. She could feel him
looking at her when he thought that she was not noticing. The deeper
circles under her eyes told Freddy their tale; the sagging of her
clothes, as they hung from her boyish limbs, the pitiful flattening of
her young breasts. This new and delicate-looking Margaret was very
beautiful. Our Lady of Sorrows had laid her hand upon her with a
softening grace; the new Meg had acquired what boyish Meg had never
possessed. Under her eyes, on her clear skin there were